The world was void. A deep, cavernous darkness cloaked Reyon's senses.
His body floated in the abyss, silent… until the black mana stirred.
A cold, writhing tendril of shadow slithered toward his temple, coiling like a whisper of memory. And then—
"Bastard child! You don't even deserve the Phoenix name!"
The voice cracked like a whip.
Reyon opened his eyes—not in reality, but within the memory. He was there again. Small. Defenseless. The courtyard of the Phoenix subsidiary mansion loomed around him. Laughter echoed in all directions.
Three boys, young masters of the lower branches, circled him with sneering faces.
One shoved him hard, sending him sprawling across the dirt.
"Your mother was a maid, wasn't she? Hah! No wonder they keep you hidden!"
"...Tch." Reyon grit his teeth. Even in this memory, the sting burned fresh.
Ray appeared behind them, calm but firm. "Enough. Say one more word and I'll break your jaw."
Ray's eyes flashed, and the boys scattered.
Reyon's younger self looked up. "…Thanks, elder brother."
But his brother just ruffled his hair. "Get stronger, little brother. No one will protect you forever."
The memory twisted. Shifted.
He stood now in the Phoenix training hall.
Evelyn towered above him, her violet eyes void of warmth.
She who regarded him as a talent that would inherit her father's legacy but she became disappointed in him as he grew up to be a weakling
"Again."
"But… Aunt, they're trained guards—"
"AGAIN!"
Two elite guards charged. Steel and fists. Magic-enhanced limbs.
Reyon raised his arms, too slow.
A blow to his ribs. Another across his cheek. Blood gushed from his lip. He coughed and crumpled. His vision swam.
"You disappoint me."
Evelyn's voice more felt hurtful than the fists.
Reyon, lying bruised and broken, gasped, "I… I'll get stronger."
He wasn't sure if she even heard.
But day after day, they came. Again and again. Beatings under the excuse of "training."
It was hell.
But slowly, his movements sharpened. His instincts honed. His limbs remembered the angles, the weight, the timing.
Until one day…
Crack!
He caught the guard's wrist mid-strike, twisted, and brought the man down.
The second guard lunged—and Reyon's elbow smashed into his chin.
Both collapsed.
Reyon stood, bloodied, barely breathing, but smiling.
"I can fight… even if it hurts."
She replied " hah.. i guess you should atleast became good at close combat cause you can't become a strong magician i give up on you"
Next day he fought back with young masters of lower clan beated them their parents brought reyon beating him and threw him in front of cold sword
They spoke your majesty please punish him
Serena replied even though he is a bastard child you shouldn't touch a heir of clan and don't you dare show this trash again in front of me you are just dishonouring yourself by associating with this trash
Few years after
The Academy.
He was older now. Wiser, maybe. But weaker.
The arena roared with cheers—but none for him.
He dodged a flame spear—barely. His attacker, a young noble from one of the twelve clans, grinned and shot another.
"Just give up, trash. Close combat? What a joke!"
Reyon tried to counter, slipping in low with a punch—but the spell struck first. He flew backward and slammed into the barrier wall.
Laughter erupted.
His classmates.
His teachers.
Even Alice… was watching.
She didn't laugh.
But her eyes…
Contempt.
It hurt more than the burns.
He whispered to himself, "…You used to adore me."
She had. As children, she clung to his side, eager to learn magic, bright-eyed whenever he succeeded. But when he began to fall behind…
She looked away.
Hated him.
Though he knew the reason their engagement broke cause reyon grew up to be a trash
Graduation day.
He stood on stage. His name was called.
He approached, shaking slightly.
But instead of a medal or praise—
A student stepped forward and struck him.
Once. Twice.
Laughter again.
He collapsed.
A nickname he gained
Failure of pheonix clan.
The grand hall of the Phoenix estate.
Reyon stood before Edward.
His fists clenched, teeth grinding.
Edward's expression was unreadable. "You failed. You've shamed us."
"...But—"
"Leave. You are no longer part of the Phoenix clan."
Reyon's vision blurred.
"You're serious?"
Silence.
Only the echo of his footsteps as he was escorted out.
Rain fell.
Cold. Heavy.
Reyon stood near the edge of the river.
His clothes were torn. His wounds unhealed.
No money.
No name.
No home.
"Is this… the end?" he muttered, trembling. "I don't even have the strength to be angry anymore…"
He stared at the black waters below.
One step forward.
He closed his eyes.
But then—
"Don't die just go away and live your free life"
A voice.
He turned sharply.
A cloaked figure stood on the bridge.
Their face—hidden.
Before Reyon could speak, the figure tossed a heavy bag. It landed beside him with a dull thump.
He opened it—
"Jewels…?! So many…"
By the time he looked back, the figure was gone.
Vanished.
"Who…?"
He searched the entire area. No trace.
Still, those jewels… he touched them, shaking.
"...Enough to feed three generations."
He journeyed east.
To the Kingdom of Elise.
For two years, he wandered—studying, surviving, growing.
In the wild, in slums, in cold inns, with mercenaries, monks, and monsters.
He spent half the jewels on mana enhancers—potions, scrolls, rare artifacts.
He gritted his teeth, endured poison rituals, spiritual burnouts, and failed fusions.
And finally…
"The 5th circle…"
He sat in meditation, veins glowing.
But something was wrong.
"No matter what I do… I can't go further…"
He slammed his fist against the stone floor.
Blood seeped from his knuckles.
"I'm stuck…"
He looked at the remaining jewels. Still enough to live comfortably.
But he shook his head.
"No. I won't stop."
He turned to the black parchment.
The Classers.
They accepted him—not because of his name, but his fists.
His blades.
His kills.
At first, they laughed.
"A 5th-circle brat? What's he gonna do?"
But then Reyon moved.
Swift.
Silent.
Merciless.
Sixth-circle mages fell when they least expected it.
Throats slit in bed. Hearts stopped mid-chant.
He trained in shadow.
He bled.
He nearly died a hundred times.
His body was carved with marks—scars of victories and survival.
But he lived.
He learned.
He adapted.
Then the world shifted again.
Two rumors spread like wildfire.
One—
"Alice Brook has reached the 8th circle. First among all academy peers!"
Reyon clenched the paper.
"…So she finally did it."
The second—
"The berserker… Evelyn Phoenix has fallen."
His breath stopped.
"No…"
He grabbed the Classer's messenger.
"Say that again."
The man nodded.
"The Phoenix estate was destroyed. Evelyn dead. Patriach Edward was away by royal summon. And marshals were far away stationed on their respective borders, Even their treasury was torn apart."
Reyon staggered back.
He wasn't close to them. He knew that.
But still…
Min Hee. His grandma
He remembered her soft laughter. Her distant but proud smile.
The only 9th circle mage.
Cause of her daughter's death
"She charged the berserker in a rage… killed all four S-Ranks holding it down…"
"…And died."
Silence.
Reyon sank to his knees.
"Grandma…You were supposed to be invincible…"
Though he wasn't close with his family but still as their blood relative he have to attend last rites
He looked down at his trembling hand.
Then rose.
"I… I need to go back."
No one stopped him.
He packed nothing but his dagger and a cloak.
And began the journey…
Back to the Phoenix clan.
To the ashes of everything he once knew.